Blood Trail (12 page)

The sheriff wouldn't listen to the story on the street. He insisted that Clint, Talbot, and Sarah accompany him to his office.

“Sheriff,” Talbot said, “there are tracks behind the saloon that we must follow. I would ask that you have someone safeguard them.”

“You are not in a position to make any demands, sir,” Jasper said. “No decisions will be made until we have talked in my office.”

And so they followed him to the office, where Talbot and Sarah sat and Clint remained standing as the sheriff/reverend sat behind his desk.

“Now, let's start with the young lady. Would you like anything? Water? Tea?”

“No, thank you,” she said meekly.

“Then perhaps you can tell me what you were doing in that alley?”

“Th-Those two men,” she said, “they forced me into the alley.”

“One of them is unrecognizable,” Jasper said, “but the other is a man named Wilkins, so I'm inclined to believe the first man is Luther.”

“What does that mean?” Talbot asked.

“They were good boys,” Jasper said. “They got into trouble, yes, but I cannot see them forcing a young girl into a dark alley.”

“Are you calling my daughter a liar?” Talbot asked.

“Not at all,” Jasper said, “I'm just telling you what I know of those two boys.”

“Men,” Talbot said, “they were men, not boys.”

“Very well,” Jasper said. “Let us agree they were young men.” He turned his attention back to Sarah. “What happened after you went into the alley with the two young men?”

“After she was taken into that alley,” Talbot insisted.

Jasper simply held up a hand to him to be silent.

“It was dark,” she said. “I managed to slip away from them and press myself against the wall. They started looking for me. One of them passed me, but the other one grabbed my arm. Then . . . something happened.”

“What, exactly?”

“The first man screamed,” she said. “Something was in the alley with us.”

“Something?”

“An animal, I think.”

“What kind of animal?”

“It was dark,” she said. “I could only feel its presence, and feel its breath. It was hot, and it smelled . . . awful.”

“Sounds like a wolf,” Jasper said, “but why would a wolf come into town?”

“Maybe,” Clint said, “he was starving.”

“There is a lot of game out there for a wolf,” Jasper said. “I can't understand why one would risk coming into a heavily populated town.”

“Maybe it was not a wolf,” Talbot said.

“Then what?” Jasper asked. “A cat? The question would be the same. Why would a big cat come into town?”

“Perhaps the animal, what it is, has a taste for human flesh,” Talbot said.

Jasper looked at Clint.

“Wolves and cats have been known to crave it once they've tasted it,” he offered.

“Perhaps,” Jasper said. “Miss, I'm glad you weren't injured in the attack.”

“Thank you.”

“You gentlemen may go,” Jasper said. “The crowd told me that neither of you entered that alley until after the screaming started.”

Talbot stood up, reached out a hand to help Sarah. Jasper stood, ever the gentleman.

“Miss, if you feel the need to talk to someone about your ordeal—”

“Why would she want to talk to a sheriff?” Talbot asked.

“The sheriff is also the town's religious leader,” Clint informed him.

“I am Reverend Jasper,” Jasper said. He looked at Sarah again. “If you need to talk, please come to me.”

“Thank you,” Sarah said.

Clint opened the office door and allowed Sarah and Talbot to precede him.

“Whatever this was,” he said, “cat or wolf, what do you intend to do about it?”

“What can I do?” Jasper asked. “I am not a hunter. Do you want me to form a posse to chase an animal?”

“It's been known to happen.”

“I will have to give the matter some deep thought, then,” Jasper said.

“Well, you do that,” Clint said. “Talbot and I will go after it.”

“That's your right,” Jasper said, “as long as you do not break the law.”

“Thanks for your permission,” Clint said, and left.

Clint and Talbot found Gerhardt with some of the other men in a saloon and pulled them out. They told them what had happened.

“Gather up the rest of our people and get them back to the wagons,” Clint said. “Take Sarah with you, and watch out for her.”

“What are you going to do?” Gerhardt asked.

“We are going to hunt it, and kill it,” Talbot said. “We have plenty of daylight left.”

“But Papa,” Sarah said, “you don't have your kit.”

“I have this,” he said, touching the pistol in his belt. “That is all I need.”

“Please be careful,” she said. “Both of you.”

“We will,” Talbot said. He put his hand on her shoulder, and then gave her a little push toward Gerhardt. “Now go.”

“God be with you,” Gerhardt said.

Clint and Talbot watched them disperse to go and look for the rest of the group. Sarah remained with Gerhardt.

“Are you ready?” Talbot asked.

“I'm ready,” Clint said. “Let's do it this time.”

* * *

They made their way to the back of the saloon without going through the dark alley.

“Nobody's been back here since,” Clint said, looking at the tracks. “They still lay over all the others.”

“This way,” Talbot said.

The tracks continued along the backs of the buildings on Council Bluff's main street, then veered and headed out of town to the north.

“It did not go in among the population,” Talbot said.

“Well,” Clint said, “these are the tracks leading out. We don't know what direction it came in from.”

“That is true,” Talbot said.

They followed the tracks up a hill, where they disappeared—to Clint's eye—into some brush.

“Okay,” Clint said, “now it's up to you. I'll just follow and watch your back.”

Talbot took the silver bullet gun from his belt for the first time and said, “This time we will find it.”

Talbot's hunter's eyes picked up the trail and led Clint into the brush. Clint was very alert as they got farther away from town and it became eerily quiet. There were no sounds from birds or any other wild life. That usually meant there was a predator around.

“It is quiet,” Talbot said.

“I noticed.”

“I still have two tracks,” Talbot said.

“So it is a man with a wolf.”

“Or a man with a werewolf.”

“Well,” Clint said, “since your gun has silver bullets, I guess we're covered both ways.”

They fell silent then, and moved on.

* * *

The members of the train came drifting back in, wondering what was going on. Sarah had built a fire and was sitting by it, holding a rifle. If her father was right about a werewolf, the rifle would do her no good, but somehow it made her feel safer. She felt badly for lying about the two dead men, but she couldn't tell the truth about what happened. Certainly not in front of Clint and her father. She was going to have to maintain the integrity of the lie as long as she could.

Gerhardt came over to her, also carrying a rifle.

“We are telling everyone what happened,” he told her. “Everyone will be on the alert from now on.”

“I hope they're all right,” she said.

“Your papa and Clint will kill the beast, if it is possible to kill it.”

“Do you think it will come here?” she asked.

Gerhardt's face went pale. His hands tightened on his rifle. “I hope not,” he said.

* * *

It was starting to get dark.

Their perceived advantage of daylight was fading.

Talbot kept his eyes to the ground. Clint didn't even know if the man noticed that it was dusk.

“Frederick.”

“Hmm?”

“It's getting dark.”

Talbot looked up.

“So it is.”

“What have we got?” Clint asked.

“Wait.”

Talbot went down to one knee, moved some of the ground brush so he could see better, then stood up and turned to Clint.

“We have to split up,” he said. “The tracks have gone in two separate directions.”

“Well,” Clint said, “if we have to, we have to. Do you want the man, or the wolf?”

“The man.”

“Why?”

“If I am right,” Talbot said, “the man can turn into a wolf. If you are right, then the wolf is just a wolf. You have killed wolves before.”

“I have.”

“And you do not have silver bullets.”

“I don't.”

“So . . .”

“I'll take the wolf,” Clint said.

At first Clint had to rely on Talbot's directions on which way the wolf had gone. But eventually he managed to pick the animal's tracks up and follow them.

The animal was leading him into an area much denser with brush and trees. The paw tracks were huge, but Clint knew he had drawn blood before. He just hoped his pistol would be large enough to do the job. He would have felt much more confident with a Sharps rifle.

But a well-placed shot did the job, no matter what the weapon was.

* * *

Talbot followed the man's tracks and quickly realized where he was going. He was circling, not to go back to town, but to go to the wagon camp.

He was going after Sarah. That was who he was after in that alley, not the two men. And perhaps it was who he had been after this whole time.

The question was why?

* * *

The tracks led Clint to some bluffs near the river, which was running strong. Crossing was going to be rough, but he couldn't think about that now. The tracks led right to the base of the bluffs. They didn't turn around, and they didn't run along the base. He had no choice but to go up.

He holstered his gun so he could use both hands.

* * *

Talbot could see the lights of the camp up ahead. The boot tracks led directly there. He was about to come out of the brush and enter camp when he thought better of it. If he went into the camp, the killer might change his mind. If he stayed hidden, he might actually get a chance to finish this.

He found a good position in the brush where he had a clear view of the camp. He could see Sarah sitting by the fire, holding a rifle, with Gerhardt nearby.

He settled in to wait.

* * *

The killer stared into the camp at the girl. It had been a long time since he'd been near her. Tonight was the night. She would either come with him willingly, or he would take her by force and feed her to the wolf.

He only had to wait for the camp to settle down, go to sleep, except for the men on watch. He could take care of them, and then Sarah would be his.

* * *

Caves.

Why were there always caves near water?

The ground was far too hard for tracks. If the wolf had gone into the caves, there was no indication of it. The only way to find out would be to go inside.

It was dark out, but it was even darker inside the caves. Clint had two choices. Go in and look, or wait outside and see if it came out.

Waiting had never been his style. He felt in his pockets until he came across a few lucifer matches. Always liked to carry some in case someone ever offered him a really good cigar. He started looking around for a stout branch to make a torch out of.

* * *

Sarah stared into the fire, unaware of what it was doing to her night vision. Even if something came rushing at her from out of the shadows, it would take a few seconds for her to see it. She'd never even have a chance to fire at it.

“Sarah.”

She looked up, squinted.

“Stop staring into the fire like that, girl,” Gerhardt said.

“Do you think they are all right, Mr. Gerhardt?” she asked. “Still alive?”

“I am sure they are, girl,” Gerhardt said. “I am sure they are.”

* * *

Talbot stared at his daughter, knowing she was worried about him, but he couldn't bring himself to walk into the camp. Not while the killer was still out there. He had to wait.

Just wait.

* * *

Clint fashioned a torch from a thick tree branch with some vines wrapped around the end. It wouldn't burn long, but maybe long enough. He lit a match, held it to the end, and watched it catch and flare up. There was no time to waste. He had to go into the cave.

He drew his gun, held the torch out in front of him, and entered.

Clint moved into the cave, and as soon as he did, he knew he was right. The wolf was inside. He could feel it. He could hear it breathing.

“I can hear you,” he said. “I don't know if you're some werewolf creature who came here from Romania, or if you're just some freak of nature from right here in the U.S., but you're not going to kill anybody else.”

The creature continued to breathe, and Clint thought he could even feel and smell the animal's hot breath.

“Only one of us is going to leave this cave alive.”

His torch began to flicker. He hurried to the mouth of the cave, grabbed some scrub brush from nearby, and took it into the cave. He piled it on the floor and lit it. As it flared up, his torch went out. Now there was a fire on the floor of the cave, between the wolf and the mouth of the cave.

He went out, got some more wood for the fire, and built it up higher. Then he sat down by it, with his gun in his hand.

“This is your only way out,” he said aloud, “and you've got to get by me.”

Then he thought, I hope this is the only way out.

* * *

Under normal circumstances, Frederick Talbot had the patience of a saint when hunting devils. Tonight he was growing impatient. The killer had to make a move tonight. Talbot wanted him dead—he did not want to cross the river and leave the killer behind to kill again, and he didn't want to travel anymore while looking over his shoulder.

He left his hiding place and moved closer to camp. His wagon was still first in line, so he made for it. Without being seen, he slipped into the back of it. He'd keep watch from here. His hand was beginning to cramp around his gun, but he insisted on keeping the weapon at the ready.

From where he was, he could see Sarah sitting at the fire. Gerhardt was keeping watch, and had walked to the other end of the train.

Suddenly, a figure stepped out of the dark, into the light of the fire.

And Talbot knew him!

* * *

“Hello, Sarah.”

Sarah turned quickly at the sound of her name. No longer staring into the fire, she saw the man and immediately recognized him.

“Vlad?” she said. “W-What are you doing here? What are you doing in America?”

The young man walked to the fire. His hair was long, hanging past his shoulders, and it was matted with dirt and leaves and twigs. He looked like something that lived in the woods.

“I came here for you,” he said. “I love you.”

“But . . . but we left you behind.”

“I followed,” he said. “I took another boat. I have been following along.”

“Vlad!”

Now it was the young man who turned at the sound of his name. He saw Talbot standing there with his gun.

“It has been you all along,” Talbot said. “You are the killer.”

“It is hard to argue with one's nature, Mr. Talbot,” Vlad said. “But I will stop killing if Sarah comes with me.”

“Sarah will never go with you,” Talbot said. He pointed the gun right at Vlad.

“You?” Sarah asked. “It has been you all along?”

Vlad ignored her. His attention was on Talbot.

“Your gun will only kill me if you have silver bullets, Talbot,” he said with a grin. “Do you?”

“I do.”

“And if you can pull the trigger before I get to you,” Vlad said. “Before I change.”

With a snarl, Vlad charged toward Talbot, who pulled the trigger twice. The bullets struck the lad, stopping him in his tracks, and then dropping him.

Sarah ran to him, and Talbot walked and looked down. Lying on his back, leaking from two wounds, Vlad Kozlov looked at his hands and said, “I . . . did not . . . change.”

And died.

* * *

In the cave the wolf suddenly howled. Clint jumped to his feet. It was as if the wolf suddenly felt pain. And then there it was, rising up out of the dark into the light of the fire, coming at him. It was the biggest wolf he'd ever seen, drool dripping from its muzzle as it charged him.

He fired, pulling the trigger six times, all six bullets striking their target. The wolf launched itself in the air at him, but by the time it came down, it was dead. It landed on the fire at his feet, but instead of the large body putting the flames out, the fur caught fire. Clint grabbed one of the great beast's legs and tried to pull it from the flames, but he couldn't budge it. Before long the entire beast was alight, and the cave smelled of burning flesh. Clint backed out of the cave and could only watch as the remarkable animal burned to a crisp.

Who would believe him?

* * *

By the time Clint entered the camp, the body had been rolled up in a blanket.

“You got him,” he said.

“Yes,” Talbot said. “And the wolf?”

“Didn't even need a silver bullet,” Clint said. “Anybody know how he controlled the wolf?”

“We did not have the chance to ask,” Talbot said.

“But you know who he was, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well,” Clint said, “let's have some coffee. You tell me your story, and I'll tell you mine.”